Stranger Than You Dreamt It
by CandleInTheDarkness
Summary: oI had a strange sense of...acceleration. Like I was racing, racing forward into some unknown place o LerouxErik finds himself in 2006 with 2 women. Will he be able to survive this new world? name pending, ErikOC!TAKING A BREAK!
1. Prologue

**a/n- This is completely Leroux based. I heard someone mention that there is a noticeable lack of Leroux Erik stories...I love Erik either way, nose or no nose! I do not own anything Phantom, but I wish I did...I would amuse Erik in many ways if I did. lol.**

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

**Year 1870. Prologue Part 1- Christine, Where are you?**

_After 3 weeks, I could not survive without Christine. Nadir faithfully put "_Erik is dead_." in the Daily Gazette. Oh my Christine, my Angel, I needed her. She had promised! She had promised me to return when I was dead._

_I felt terrible, deceiving her so, but I could not! I could not eat, could not sleep; I could barely compose music. Music! The only thing that made sanity cling to my mind was ceasing to do so...I was losing myself, losing myself in grief. Nadir was forcing me to eat at least once every other day or so... I suppose I was truly becoming the "Living Corpse," the "Opera Ghost" that everyone had labeled me. Tears leaked from my eyes. _Christine! You must come! _I moaned. _You MUST!_ Oh Christine. For the tenth time I rushed weakly up a tunnel, checking to see if Christine was even now walking thru the Paris Opera House door. I took a huge risk, and actually went to the door, preparing to open it. Insane, really, to think she'd be here at this exact moment. I touched the giant golden handle and felt a shock run thru my entire body. Every fiber of my being quivered, and I had a strange sense of...acceleration. Like I was racing, racing forward into some unknown place..._

**Year 2005. Prologue Part 2 - The Appearance**

"Roselle! Oh my god, look! We finally can see it!" Abbey squealed. Roselle giggled in excitement, her heart and body fizzy and hyper. "Oh my lord! A Phan's DREAM! We are standing at the ruins of Paris Opera House!"

Abbey and Roselle squeaked and screamed and hugged as innocent bystanders avoided them like a plague. It was here that Christine Daae left poor Erik! Here where the greatest masterpieces were buried! Here where the mask of the red death paraded thru the Opera House!

But of course, the Phantom of the Opera was a _legend. _But a wonderful story all the same.

"_In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came, that voice which calls to me, and speaks my name...and do I dream again, for now I find, the PHANTOM OF THE OPERA IS THERE INSIDE MY MIND!_" Roselle sang.

Abbey sighed dramatically. "You have such a wonderful voice, Roselle. You could have replaced Christine."

Roselle blushed, because she was being honest. "I certainly would have made a better choice ," she clarified. _She _would have certainly chosen poor Erik over Raoul DeClodhead.

"Let's touch it! Just the handle," Roselle moaned, and stepped up to the unguarded, unloved pile of rubble. After so long abandoned, buildings had been constructed around it, forming a deep, dark alley up to the monstrous building. Weeds littered the path. No one knew why the city didn't just tear it down, but some people clung to small hopes that it could be fixed up and live to its name again. Abbey followed behind her, giggling nervously.

"Oooh it looks so creepy," She whispered giddily.

"I like the dark," Roselle protested mildly. "It's a good place to hide."

Abbey flashed her a sympathetic glance, which Roselle loathed, but she said nothing. Reaching up, she hesitated before touching the grand but rather weary-looking golden handle of the crumbling door. Roselle stopped and examined the handle curiously; The gold was twisted in such strange ways...She felt a odd tingling in my fingers, as if she was close to another person. "Touch it, touch it, touch it!" Abbey chanted.

Roselle did.

She had the freakiest sensation of touching another person's- _cold-_ fingers.

Abbey screamed.


	2. Lost

Chapter 1 Lost

That strange feeling of moving forward abruptly stopped, and I felt someone's warm fingertips against mine. I yelped in fear- I was about to be discovered!- when I heard a high-pitched, feminine shriek. My eyes shot open; a tiny, insane part of my imagination wildly wondered if the scream was Christine's.

I stared at two complete strangers.

I, shaking, tried to draw myself up and scare the young women away, but noticed how dark it was. Buildings lined the Opera House; Where the _hell _had they come from! Something big, white, and noisy whipped by the end of the alley, ripping the air with a loud BEEEP! I began to shrink. What was going on? I glared at the women, scared and angry- not a good mix.

The girl closest to me, who had leapt back upon sight, was rather short and plain; Strange, multicolored hair that was both brown, blonde, and red yet neither one by itself. She had fair skin, and blue eyes that made her face a lot prettier.

The other woman was taller with blackish brown hair and wan skin, and gray, excited eyes. Large hoops hung from her ears, and I finally noticed the strange clothing they wore.

I stared unabashed at their mens' clothes. Blondy wore a tight blue shirt cut off at the forearm.

It said in English: _Explain to me again why I need a boyfriend?_

Even more bizarre, her legs were clad in close-fitting blue pants. They were denim, the cloth of the poor. But she didn't _look_ poor. Why were they so...exposed?

The other girl had a similar pink shirt reading _Whatever_, and denim pants too, only they were white, not blue, _and cut off half way up her thighs! _What kind of prostitute was she!

The taller one squeaked and whispered excitedly into the other's ears.

"...The Phantom? Could it be? I mean, look at his clothes! No one has worn clothes like that for like, what, 100 years? Omigod, Roselle, can you believe it? It's Erik, it's Erik, it's Erik!"

I shuddered. "How do you know me!" I demanded, "Are you gypsies? What are you doing at the Paris Opera House?" I spoke against my better judgment. "Who are you?"

They glanced at each other, then the black-haired women squealed again and jumped up and down, causing my intense anxiety to triple.

"Abbey, STOP. You're scaring him!" The short one said, and I finally realized they were speaking English. I repeated my questions in the correct language.

The one called Abbey giggled girlishly, but the one called Rosal- Roseal- Rosalee- I could not pronounce it- shot Abbey a glare and stepped closer to me, not touching me, thankfully, but coming close enough for me to see her sincere eyes.

"Sir, I'm...not sure how you got here...We're not gypsies, and it's not Paris Opera House any more..." She sighed in frustration. "We'll tell you how we know you soon, but I think you better come with us."

I shrank away. "What's going on? If it's not the Opera House, then what is it? Why are you dressed so strange!"

Another shiny black speeding thing whizzed by.

Roselle sighed again. "I'm not sure. Everybody dresses like this now- but the House closed... nearly 100 years ago."

"B-But that's not possible! I live-" I shouted wildly, feeling like a animal backed into a corner.

Roselle continued to stare into my eyes until I calmed a little.

"You are in the year 2006."

I snorted. "I'm not st-"

BEEEEEEEEP!

"That's a car- a moving carriage without horses. We're wearing clothes that all women wear now, and the Paris Opera House is a wreck."

I closed my eyes, trying not to scream with fear.

Abbey whispered. "What are we going to do? D'you think he can get back to his own time?"

Roselle replied in like manner. "Why would he _want _ to? Christine's left him and all that, so it's not like he has anything to go back _to._"

"Good point. Should we take him to our apartment?"

"Can you think of a better solution?"

"No. Are..." Abbey's face softened slightly as she glanced at her friend. "Will you be able to cope?"

Roselle avoided her eyes, and her voice was filled with pain. "I don't have a choice. We can't just _leave _him out here, he won't survive for an hour!"

"So...we take him back to our apartment and...teach him about life in 2006?"

"I guess...I don't think we can get Erik back to 1870."

I cleared my throat; this was all so confusing! "Please,...how do you know my name?"

Roselle and Abbey glanced fearfully at each other, then at me. "We're not going to hurt you or turn you in. But I think...that information should wait until you get used to...this new life."

"So...I really am in 2006? And there's no way back?" I said, aghast.

"I don't think so. And you never know- once you get used to it here, you may not want to go back!" Abbey told me, a bright smile on her face.

Roselle beckoned me with a finger. "C'mon. We'll get you to our home and decide what to do next. I'm Roselle, by the way, and this is Abbey."

"I am called Erik...but I guess you knew that," I said uncomfortably, standing up. "It's...strange to meet you, Abbey and Ros-Rosa-" no matter how I tried, I just couldn't tongue the name _Roselle. _"Rossel...Rosalee."

Roselle and Abbey grinned, then, moving to either side of me, marched me out into this new world.

The instant I stepped out onto the street, I panicked. Shiny..._cars_...were everywhere, and the road was coated in what was almost cement...with yellow lines painted onto it. I halted and took a deep breath. Feral instincts began to rise within me- the feelings I felt when I was trapped or afraid. I jerked my arm away from Abbey, but Roselle refused to let go. "Erik, why don't you close your eyes."

"NO! No...I have to get out of here..."

"Erik, you HAVE to come with us. See all of this new stuff? We'll help you understand, but you must trust us."

_Trust? Trust!_ I nearly laughed. _I have never trusted in my whole life._

I made a worried noise but closed my eyes; I felt sick. I heard the girls talking.

"Should we take a cab?"

"No way. he'd probably puke all over the floor."

"Good point...I guess its not that far from here to the apartment."

"What's our plan of action? Geez, Abbey, this is sooooo bizarre. I've dreamt about the Phantom of the Opera, but never in any of the deep dungeons of my mind did I think we would meet him!" Roselle whispered, giggling.

"I know!"

"But we can't tell anyone he's the Opera Ghost. Number 1 no one would believe us and number 2 if they did they'd cart him off for tests and number 3 a huge mob of Phantom Phans would storm our house and glomp him."

Abbey laughed out loud.

_HOW DO THEY KNOW ME! _I screamed in silence. That old paranoia crept into my brain.

"Do you swear that you will tell me how you know my name?" I said, feeling faint again. I swayed slightly. This was too much.

"Yes, we SWEAR, but Erik, you really need to stay conscious, please, 'cause I don't think we could drag you."

I nodded, and forced myself to think of something...something...music! Of course.

My mind processed on that for a moment while they continued talking. I was annoyed that they talked as though I wasn't there, but I said nothing.

"First thing we'll need to do is get him some new clothes. He can't walk around in these ones- geez, they are so..." Abbey drifted off.

I opened my eyes and stared down at my clothes. What was wrong with them? Men with clothes like these were rich.

"...old." Roselle finished. "That's a good idea. Then we have to educate him about 2006. I don't think he should go out until he could answer questions about stuff."

"Yeah...and if he has to come back with us-"

"You don't live in France?" I interrupted.

"Nope, we're down home Americans. We're here for the summer."

My mind whirled again, and I suddenly realized we were at a house. "Where am I?" I asked blearily. I sounded stupid and dense, but I couldn't help it.

"At our apartment."

"I'm...I'm not dead, am I?" I mumbled, on the brink of a mental shutdown.

"No, Erik." Roselle said gently. "Come, rest."

She lead me to a small room with a bed. "Go ahead and sleep for a while...you might feel better afterwards."

I raised no objections, fell over the bed, and let my weary mind pulled me into a deep sleep.


	3. Strange

Chapter 2 - Strange

I tossed, realizing the comforting closeness of the coffin I sleep in was not there. My eyes shot open and found myself in a strange room. _Where...?_ Then it came rushing back. I groaned softly and rested my head between my knees. I trembled. What the hell would happen to me? Could I survive in this foreign place? I heard voices from another room. I slugged myself off the bed and staggered forward. I opened the door and followed the noise, until I came into a small kitchen. The two girls-Roselle and Abbey- sat around a tiny table, talking in low voices. Roselle's head jerked up and saw me. "Good morning."

I felt so uncomfortable, with the both of them staring at me. I checked my mask; Mon dieu, but it was still on. "I-"

"Ok...Erik, sit down. Where should we start?"

I obeyed, but the table was so small our elbows nearly touched. I leaned back slightly. "How do you know my name?"

The girls exchanged glances. "Um...alright...but...it's complicated..." Abbey sighed.

I hardened my eyes and stared coldly at them. Roselle shrunk.

"Okay," she squeaked, and handed me a book. I sighed. She was afraid of me. But why wouldn't she be?

Then I saw the book's cover. _The Phantom of the Opera. _My jaw dropped and my hands began to tremble.

"HOW? What in hell- how...I...what the _hell?_" I usually refrained in swearing before women- what few women I have been around- but I was flabbergasted. I glared at them distrustfully.

"It was published in 1910 by Gaston Leroux." Roselle said softly.

"What...does it say about me?" I whispered.

"Ask Roselle. She's read it a million times." Abbey instructed.

I looked expectantly at Roselle. She wouldn't look at me. "It says you were a recluse...you lived beneath the Opera Populaire. Before that you'd been a assassin for Persia, a carnival attraction-" at that, the shy girl's eyes met mine with a look of sadness and pity- "and a masonry contractor."

My breathing was getting dangerously unsteady.

"You..." As she reached this point, Roselle's voice was more quiet than a whisper. "You fell in love with Christine Daae, and exceptional singer, and lost her to the Viscount Raoul DeChangy."

I was fair panting now. Undefined rage poured into my eyes. Roselle's eyes widened and she looked as if she wanted to run. Abbey was nervous, glancing at her friend in concern.

"You asked me," Roselle breathed. "You asked!"

I lifted my hands to hold my head, and she flinched. I was momentarily confused but I didn't ponder it long. I rubbed my scalp vigorously.

"What else should I know?" I looked up again.

Roselle sat again, still anxious, I could see, but better. "Alright...but I think...you must swear not to leave us until you can understand our time and its technologies."

Abbey nodded and added. "For your safety."

My eyebrow jerked up. "My...safety? Believe me, Mademoiselle, I can take care of myself."

"We know. But that was in the 19th century...this is the 21st. Big differences." Roselle said.

I sighed, seeing no other way. "I swear." Then a new thought hit me. "What will your husbands or parents think of this?"

Abbey snickered, but Roselle's eyes turned ghostly.

"We're not married," she said quietly. Her eyes looked suddenly haunted.

Abbey stopped her laughter and laid a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Your not..."I struggled..."Sapphists?"

Roselle head snapped up and met Abbey's gaze, and the 2 of them burst out with gales of laughter.

"Oh, that's rich! He thinks we're lezzies!" Abbey guffawed, hanging over her chair.

"No, no, no...We're friends! We took vacations from work to come here for 4 weeks!" Roselle gasped, tears of mirth pricking the corners of her eyes.

"Work? I-I don't understand..." I was becoming increasingly befuddled, and I hated it.

"Women these days do every kind of work men do. They live alone if they wish, or with their boyfriends-beaus- although both of us detest that- or with their parents or husbands." Roselle explained kindly.

I shuddered. "What kind of work?"

"Military, secretary, politics- government positions such as governor and senators- mailpersons, fire-fighters, police women..." Abbey rambled.

I shook my head. "And they all dress as you do?"

"How do you mean?"

I hesitated. "Men's clothes, tight tops, skin showing..." I blushed, glad for once that the mask covered my face.

"Yep!" Abbey said cheerfully. "Although most women's clothes retain a more feminine appearance."

"And now, there's no need for carriages. There's cars- you saw those; air planes- They are motor geared to fly like a bird, sorta; we've even built a spaceship that went to the moon!"

I snorted. "Flying? To the moon? You lie."

"No! Anway, there's phones that allow you to talk to someone miles away; cell phones are the same only mobile; Computers that you can create a book on, visit these things called web pages..."

Roselle again cut in for me. "Ab, you're scaring him again. Let's give him something he'll enjoy."

My head began to ache. She handed me an odd, round-shaped device connected with a wire, and to that, a U shaped thing with fuzzy stuff on the end.

"This is called a CD player. It plays music."

My head processed the thought easier.

"Put these earphones on your head..." she handed me the U thing, "And press play right here."

I did so, and not a second later, orchestra music poured into my ears. I jumped. "Where's it coming from!"

She opened the round thing and showed me a disk. "It's recorded on here. If you want to take a break before dinner, you can go listen to that for a while."

I nodded and jumped up. "I beg your pardon, but you needn't cook for me...I...don't think I'm hungry."

Abbey and Roselle shared glances. "Alright, but we'll torture you with aromas, then. Mean while, once you regain some brain cells, you should read this stack of books; American History, World History from the 19th century on, and other various things about technology. But no hurry."

I nodded hurriedly and escaped to the little room, cautiously pressed play, and let my thoughts whirl away with music called _Pirates of the Caribbean Soundtrack_ - whatever that meant.


	4. Still Learning

Chapter 3- Still Learning

I found myself awake again, and to my misfortune, still in the girl's bedroom. I sighed deeply, noticing the 'CD Player' had stopped. I smelled a faint odor drifting on the air- it was delicious. Sunlight shone thru a small window, and I guessed it to be morning of my second day in 2006.

I shook my head. Was this...Mon Dieu, had I slipped into some dream of madness, some shadow of reality? To think it was only 2 weeks ago my Angel had run off...off with her young man...Tears sprung to my eyes, and I let them pour. Sometimes the only solution for deep, poisoning gloom is to weep; no matter how un-masculine it was, but fine if no one saw you.

_Christine._

I should forget her... Forget...But how could I? How could I forget those innocent, sky blue eyes, pleading with me to let her fop go? How could I forget that she was the first woman to allow me to kiss her; Kiss that soft, glowing skin on her forehead, her virgin forehead? And she had held my hand and said, '_Poor, unhappy Erik,_' and she had cried with me! Allowed me to steal her sweet, warm tears! Oh, oh, my heart, be stilled. Let me die and remove my carcass from this strange new world. Why must you continue to beat, continue to prolong this torture called life? _Why_? My cerebrum, loath to mull over such things, scanned the room. I wondered which girl this one belonged to. I observed harder, trying to discern what the personality of this room was. It was rather simple, as the girl would only be here for a few weeks; The walls were painted light blue. The bed's comforter was maroon, lush and soft, as were the pillows. A desk was settled cozily in a corner, with books, paper, and writing utensils strung haphazardly over the top. Some clothes were stuffed in a laundry basket, looking wearily cramped. I blushed as I saw what seemed to be men's underwear cut at the hip and a corset-like object of black lace that told me exactly where it went. Modern undergarment? Are all the people here so liberal in wearing such revealing clothes?

I forced my gaze away from them and my eyes lighted on a bookcase with a large mirror resting atop it. Books, books, books. Well worn and new, hardbound and paperback, large and small, everything in between. This _must _be Rose- Roas- Rosalee's (I still couldn't pronounce it, to my immense embarrassment) room. I stood up and tottered over to them, wondering what she read.

Most titles I didn't know; _Lord of the Rings; Eragon; The Da Vinci Code; Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants; Wicked; _and several mildly romantic novels among them.

I did, however, recognize _Pride and Prejudice, the Merchant of Venice, _and _The Sea Wolf._

Interesting. But books made think of the paperback lying on the bed. The one that had my past printed into its pages. Warily, as if it could leap up and bite me, I picked it up. But at the same time, a knock sounded on the door. I sighed and walked over, opening it to see Roselle's concerned face. "Breakfast is ready, if you'd like to join us."

Pondering the thought for a moment, I realized I was ravenous for once. "I'd be honored; it smells wonderful." I added.

Roselle smiled. "Nothing special. Just eggs and bacon. I- I dunno what you ate like, back in 1870, but I figured that'd be pretty basic..." she said anxiously, playing with her hands as she looked up at me.

I was truly touched at how concerned she was for my well-being, despite the myriad of thoughts running thru my head. "That sounds wonderful."

I followed her to the kitchen, more interested in the machines I passed this time than before.

I glanced curiously at a small box that had numbers and words on it, such as 'power cook' and 'defrost.' I contemplated it. "Does this...Is it like an oven?" I queried.

"Yes, actually. But it gets food hotter...faster than a oven. And it defrosts frozen food. And pops popcorn."

Now we came to a bigger box, just inside the kitchen. I opened it experimentally, and was blasted with cold air. "An icebox?"

Roselle and Abbey grinned at me with pride. "Yeah! But one side freezes stuff and the other side just keeps it cool."

I nodded and sat down when Abbey gestured toward a chair. _Maybe I can get used to this._

I watched the two girls as they finished up breakfast. Despite my presence, they chattered on to one another, giggling and cooking at the same time. Clearly, Roselle was only shy around me, but then I guess I wasn't any better. It was rather amusing to observe them, really.

Abbey spilled water all over Roselle and the table as she bumped into a chair. Roselle merely laughed went to change. Abbey knocked her head on the cabinet door because Roselle opened it right as she passed. Roselle dropped a piece of bacon and promptly snatched it with her slender fingers and stuffed it messily into her mouth. Eventually, after several other episodes of the like, they set a steaming plate before me, then sat down themselves. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Roselle murmured grace and we dug in, avoiding self-conscious verbiage. I ate in awe. I had never indulged in such wonderful food; Yes, I cooked for myself in the house by the lake, but I could never match a woman's skill. I must have made some noise, because Abbey looked up at me. "Ya like it?"

I nodded vigorously. "It is the best thing I've eaten in a very long time. You honor me to give me such food."

Roselle and Abbey broke out in huge smiles, and, looking at each other, said, "Don't you wish guys still talked like that? It's really refreshing."

"Totally."

I frowned. "How do...guys...talk now."

Roselle shrugged. "They aren't very chivalrous, unless you meet a really good one. Generally, they cuss, diss, and insult in front of about anyone."'

"Are all of your men out of the gutter?" I demanded to know.

"No, no. Women do the same things. It's...Well, it's really hard to describe. For example, when a man meets a women, they do not bow and curtsy. They merely nod or shake hands. It is rare that a man will hold open a door for a women or pull her chair out. Sometimes, but very uncommon. Men don't hold much back anymore."

My eyebrows shot up. "What an uncivil world you live in! Women are held in the highest disrespect. How savage of a man not to treat a woman as a delicacy."

"But women these days _aren't _delicate. They want to do things themselves. And it's the overall feeling that women were mere vassals in your time."

I shook my head. "Then why would we have treated them so, standing in their presence- well, not me, other men- and honoring them?"

Abbey and Roselle exchanged bewildered glances.

"Wow. I've never thought of it that way before. I...guess that's true. But what about arranged marriages and...like...women couldn't do anything without their husband's consent, or live on their own without being scorned?" Roselle queried, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Ah, well, some things were taken a little too far, but most of it was for the benefit of the woman." Suddenly, I was struck. Here I was, sitting in a kitchen, talking in a nonchalant way to two women, like I was a normal person. For the first time in a long time- indeed, the last time I smiled, I could not remember- I felt the corners of my mouth tip up.

Abbey and Roselle returned the smile easily.

"Anyway...Roselle and I have to go shopping; So we'll probably be gone for an hour or two. Do you want to come or start studying?"

The thought of crowds made me shrink. "I'll study."


	5. Brain Lock

Chapter 4- Brain Lock

After nearly a week of intense study, I could proudly say that my knowledge of the 21st century was tolerable. Abbey and Roselle were exceedingly kind, kind in a manner that had never happened to _me _before.

"Erik, can I talk to you?"

I looked up from the American history book I had nearly finished. "Of course, Mademoiselle."

Roselle sat down on the edge of the kitchen counter. "What do you plan to do?"

I frowned.

"I mean, you'll stay with us I hope, but do you want to try to go back, or would you stay in France?"

I had been thinking about this problem. "I don't know." I said honestly. "I do _not _wish to return to my time, however. I have nothing there. But I do not want to burden you-"

"Oh no! You aren't, I swear." Roselle assured me. I smiled gratefully, seeing her sincere eyes.

"That means...so much to me."

"So do you plan on coming to America? If so, we'd have to register you for immigration, get your green card, that stuff. And ride a plane."

A shudder went down my spine. "I understand. But I will not live with you unless I can help you. I will work, too, and we will split the cost of living."

Roselle gave me a patient smile of appreciation.

"That's fine; Abbey lives in the city and I live in the country. You can stay with either of us, but I have more room. What kind of jobs would you take?"

"Anything."

"No seriously. You should do something you like to do. Anything's available; you could probably work from home."

"Give me an example of what you think I'd like."

"Geez...known you for a week. Music reviewing, perhaps? Or composing; I dunno how one goes about selling music these days. Something of that sort, maybe?"

I nodded. Compose? I winced at the thought. I had not composed a sheet of music since _that night_. The night when Christine removed my heart and carried it with her, away with her young man. My inspiration was gone.

"What do you do?"

"I am a book reviewer/ editor. It's a very interesting job. Anyway, so if you're coming to America, I'll go look up immigration stuff on the net."

The _net_. A source of constant amazement to me. How everything you could ever want to know could be contained to those _pages_ and _sites _and _forums..._ it was amazing! Just unbelievable.

But when she left, I put away the history book and picked up _Phantom of the Opera. _

**Ok, Phans, Should I keep going? I've never written Leroux Erik before...But is he staying in character, pretty much?**

**Reviews are very very welcome! No flames please, It's my story. **


	6. The Bikinis

Chapter 5 - The Bikinis

Sleep drifted lazily from my mind as I snuggled deeper within the blankets. I used to go days without sleep, but in this new, alien world I needed it as much as the next man. I yawned, feeling a book sliding off the bed. I stared at _The Phantom of the Opera _in abhorrence. Leroux had got it right, for sure. I thought sourly that I could find his great-great-great-great or something grandson and kill him, but what good would it do?

The thought that both girls knew what lay behind my mask haunted me. _They knew my worst secret. _They could use it to destroy me. But I did not think they would do so. They were the closest things I had to friends in my entire life. Abbey and I had not much in common, and Roselle was ever so quiet and withdrawn around me- a mystery as to why- but they _did _speak and they _didn't _scream when I appeared.

And the memories. The memories the horrid book brought back. I remembered like it was yesterday...

_"I've never seen him in daylight. It...it must be horrible!" Christine stammered, staring at Raoul with distress. "Oh, the first time I saw him...I thought he was going to die!"_

_"Why?" that fop of a boy asked, sounding worried, but more interested in staring down Christine's dress. "Why did you think he was going to die?"_

_"Why? _Because I'd seen him!_" she answered._

_Unable to contain myself, I moaned. _Oh Christine, my Angel, my life, why did you have to do it? Why did you have to take off my mask and look upon my demon's face? _I must have moaned louder than I thought, as Raoul said, _

_"There's someone here in pain, maybe someone who's been injured. Did you hear?"_

_"I can't really say, because even when I'm not with him, my ears are full of his sighs..."_

That was the night, that night, when I knew for certain that my Angel of Music- my lovely little Scandinavian, my blonde little bird- did not love me. She was frightened, so frightened of me. Not love, never love. Ah, how I wept that night, in my coffin. The satin of it was stained with my devil tears. For only a beast like myself could ever wish to have an Angel.

My trail of thoughts were broken as the door opened, very, very softly. Bare feet tiptoed over to the desk, stopping tense when the floor creaked. When I did not move, the feet belonging to Roselle picked up the laptop on her desk and began to back up. I feigned sleep, out of sheer ornery-ness. Then the footsteps inched closer, and I could feel her nearby. What was she doing? I shrunk away slightly. But all she did was pull the blanket back up onto my shoulder and creep out of the room.

I studied the computer screen, completely entranced by the information I was reading. A musical publishing company by the name of _Quarter Note Publishing _had a very good reputation. They'd been in business for 50 years, and-

"Hey Erik?"

I turned and fell out of my chair. Roselle and Abbey in the doorway, dressed in not but underclothes! I could feel myself blushing hot red, down to my neck. What the hell? Mon Dieu, we were becoming friends, but not that much! I averted my eyes in total embarrassment. Abbey giggled. "Don't worry Erik. It's a swimsuit. Women wear them all the time- and there's some more obscene than these."

I turned back to them, but after one small glance their way, I still couldn't look out of complete abashment. Roselle's was blue, going half-way down her stomach, but still revealing a lot of...s-skin. She had a pair of shorts on and modestly slipped a shirt over her swimsuit.

But Abbey...she was practically falling out of hers.

"Anyway, we're going swimming for an hour or two...will you be okay?"

"Yes, yes, of course." I replied, relieved I could endure my shame alone.

Abbey left, but Roselle came up to me.

"Are you sure you won't get bored? I really hate leaving you by yourself."

I gave her a smirk. "I will not get bored, or lonely. I've survived much worse, to be sure."

But as I watched the two leave, laughing- probably at me- I felt slightly lonely. I wished...I wished. I wished I could go swimming with them, enjoying friends. _But no, Erik, of course not. You are too ugly._

"Hey Erik we're back!"

I closed the Algebra 4 book- the most interesting one yet- and went to greet the girls.

Roselle's pale face was red from sunburn, and she was rubbing blue aloe vera cream onto her skin. "If only I could remember the stupid sunscreen. Then I wouldn't have to look like a cherry."

I smirked and Abbey laughed. "If only you'd sit and _tan _instead of splashing around with 10 year olds and diving off boards."

"If only I didn't have a mask, and I'd gladly burn my face." I froze. I hadn't meant to say anything.

"That reminds me, Erik..." Roselle grabbed one of the bags at her feet and rummaged thru it until she produced a tub labeled "make-up wax, Wal-Mart, $9.99".

"In Leroux's novel-" Roselle chewed her lip apologetically-" He mentioned you wore these paper machè nose things when you went out in public..."

I raised a rather menacing eyebrow. She even knew about that black hole in my face, the absence of a nose which was so disgusting. "And so?"

"And so you need something like that. You're gunna have to get out of here sometime- get clothes at least."

The girls had bought a few shirts and pants for me, but they were too big, and the pants were short.

"Anyway, movie makers-" I had learned about this. But, for lack of time, we hadn't watched a _movie_ yet- "They use this wax to add, like, wrinkles to younger people and larger noses for actors. So I was thinking we could make something together."

I was, at first, panicked that she knew that I had no nose. But I realized the sense in her words, and appreciated her efforts. I forced a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.

"That is a good plan."

"So let's get started."

Abbey began dinner- barbequed steaks, a meal I was now partial to. The very smell made my mouth water. Roselle pulled out the wax.

She nervously said I should measure-the place where it should go. I nodded, my manner cold.

Roselle lowered her voice and spoke quietly. "You could just take it off. The mask."

I recoiled as though struck, and she flinched. "I-it was just a thought, you don't have to, I just-"

Abbey glanced over in slight alarm.

"Do you really want to see?" I whispered, my voice deadly. Roselle, fear clouding her blue eyes, nodded nevertheless.

"Do you want to see, and then scream with abhorrence and horror, and watch Erik's temper spill over?"

Roselle was fair trembling now. Tears sprung to her eyes. Deep with in my head, I was ashamed and abashed. What a way to treat her! But I could not stop myself.

Roselle cowered further into her chair, then said, in such a small timid voice, "I wouldn't scream, really I wouldn't..."

I glared icily at her, but Abbey stepped over and put a hand on Roselle's shoulder. She was not afraid of me, at all. "Erik, that's enough." Her voice was sharp in a why I'd never heard before. "_Enough. _Don't you say another word to frighten her. Instead of terrorizing her like a giant, you could have just said _no."_

Mortified, and indeed feeling stupid and terrible as I looked at Roselle. She was trying so hard not to cry. I dropped my gaze and sighed. "I apologize, mademoiselle."

Abbey, satisfied, went out to grill. Roselle nodded, trying to act as though she'd never reacted. "I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have said anything. Should we continue?"

I nodded, picked up a measuring tape, and went to my room. Staring at the mirror, I slowly let the mask fall from my face.

Ah, there it was. The wretchedness of the devil combined with the horridness of humanity.

Patches of dark hair that never lay flat unless I gel it; those skull's deep eyes, so that you could only just see my greenish-gold orbs; the agonizing lack of a nose- the gaping, black hole that disgusted even myself; and the thin lips, malformed at one end. Not to mention the yellowish, parchment-like skin. I sighed despondently. Would this age accept me any better than my native era? Like as not, I would become a recluse...I wondered vaguely as I measured about how long my wax nose should be, if being a recluse was like an addiction; an old habit that dies hard. I sighed, deep, hollow, agonized sigh, and walked back to Roselle, muttering the dimensions.

She smiled suddenly, a chuckle trickling out of her full lips.

"What?" I mumbled, not looking at her.

"Just think; oh, it'd be hilarious..."

"Just say it."

"You could make, like, 5 different noses! A beak, a hook-nose, a squashy one... that'd be so amusing."

Her thought struck me, and I laughed with her. "Indeed! Why did I never think of this?"

We proceeded to finish a nose- a normal one, we decided to make funny ones later- and I realized the awkwardness was gone. Roselle and I had forgiven each other for our misunderstanding, and went about the nose-making business with amusement and sincerity.


	7. Singing

**Dear readers, here's another long chapter to tide you over. I'm so sorry it took so long.**

Chapter 6 Singing

I sighed deeply as I rolled over and stared at the sunny window. I yawned, feeling lazy, and reached for Roselle's CD player, ready to listen to a violinist named Vivaldi. And suddenly...I fully realized...

I had time-traveled to the 21st century. I was living with two women who wore showy bikinis and lived in America. I had no way to get back to my own time and I would never, ever see Christine again. There was planes and space ships and rock and roll and computers and DVD's here. And I would _never_ see Christine again.

_Mon Dieu. _

Reality slammed into me like a bucket of cold water. _I would never see Christine again. _

No, no, no...I could not survive here, I couldn't, not without Christine, God...I could feel myself going slightly mad.

_But I must, and I will._ Survival always came easy to me.

A knock at my door.

"Hey Erik, c'mon! We're taking you shopping today!"

I shuddered. "What if I don't want to?" I replied, acting childish enough to warrant a surprised silence on the other side of the door.

"We'll make you!" Abbey cajoled.

Abbey was a piece of work. Nothing daunted her; Roselle and she were so different. Where Abbey was loud and cheery, Roselle was usually quiet and solemn. Abbey was light and completely reckless, Roselle was mysterious and cautious.

"If you come, Roselle might sing for you!"

I perked. "We have a singer in this household?"

"NO!" Roselle shouted, then in a quieter voice, she said to Abbey, "Why did you have to tell him, why?"

I opened the door to see a mischievous Abbey and a red-faced, angry Rosalee.

"Will you sing for me?" I asked.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I suck, okay?" She mumbled, turning away and starting down the hall.

"No she doesn't, she's awesome!" Abbey called.

I caught up with Roselle. "You sing?"

"No, Erik. I'm bad. I won't sound like an Angel, and I'm too shy to do it anyway." She refused to look at me.

I knew she spoke of Christine. A shiver of sorrow twanged my spine, but I pushed thoughts of _her _away. "You must sing for me, when we return."

"Noooo! I get far too nervous and then I sound like a banshee." Roselle snapped.

"Oh, c'mon Rose! You can do it!" Abbey wheedled. "You know you can!"

"No I don't," the blonde woman said, but both Abbey and I could see her resolve wearing thin.

"Please, mademoiselle. I would be honored to here you sing." I said.

"When I get done you'll be insulted." Roselle sighed. "Alright, FINE."

A giant blue and gray building, with the words 'Walmart' attached, stood before me. The thing almost seemed to mock my sudden fear of all the cars and people. "I can't do this," I whispered to myself as a huge crowd of families rushed past me, through doors that slid open of their own accord. I realized that every time a person walked in front of the glass, it slid open to admit them or let them outside. Curious.

Another hoard of people. _I could not do this._

I swallowed with paranoid anxiety and felt a hand on my arm. I flinched, but it was only Roselle. "It will be okay, Erik. Everyone will be too busy wrapped up in their own affairs to spare you more than a glance." Her gentle blue eyes did nothing to calm me. "No. I can't...I can't go in there." I ripped my arm away and began to walk back to the car. I felt them alongside me. "C'mon, Erik, it'll be fine!"

"No. No people. _NO._"

"Erik, this is ridiculous. Close your eyes if you must!" Abbey said impatiently, grabbing me and pulling me back. I fought her for a moment.

Then Roselle took my hand. It felt strange, really...holding some one else's hand...I stared at her with something like surprise. She squeezed my fingers in reassurance. "Nothing bad will happen, Erik. You will survive." I nodded slowly and removed my hand. It felt too alien, my skin touching another human being's.

Over the next 3 hours the girls bombarded me with clothes, socks, and underwear. I felt rather like a fashion marionette. We had our disagreements; some of the things they wanted me to wear were ridiculous. I flatly refused to wear shorts, and only just agreed to t-shirts. I preferred the button-up, long-sleeve shirts and dress pants. They were closer to what I was used to. It was very difficult to find a size that would fit, but eventually we were decided. I was happy to be done, but then they dragged me over to the cosmetics and picked up shampoo and deodorant, shaving cream and a razor. It was so very awkward, them buying me things. I was not used to it, for sure. After that Roselle remembered we needed groceries. But finally, with a bill of $270, we immerged from the store with an entire wardrobe. We somehow managed to stuff everything in the girl's little car- Yes, I had ridden in the blasted things. They really weren't bad- and get on the road. Wearily, we dragged ourselves and the bags into the house and sort of collapsed on the couch.

"Okay, Roselle. Time to sing."

"Abbey!"

"NOW!"

"Fine!" Roselle growled. She went to the kitchen and got a drink of water. "Do I have to?"

"Please, Rosalee, you cannot be that bad," I said impatiently. "Why are you so frightened?"

"I let all my emotions out when I sing and...well...that's difficult for me." Roselle stuttered.

"Calm yourself, Rose."

"What should I sing?"

"_Think of Me!_" Abbey squealed.

"Oh, gog no. C'mon Abbey!" Roselle glanced at me. "He knows that song!"

"It is from _Hannibal, _yes?" I asked.

"Yeah; Okay FINE, sing something from Celtic Woman."

Roselle sighed, and took several deep breathes.

_My young love said to me,_

_"My mother wouldn't mind. _

_And my father won't slight you for your lack of kind."_

_And she stepped away from me,_

_and this she did say,_

_"It will not be long, love, till our wedding day."_

_She stepped away from me,_

_and she moved thru the fair._

_And fondly I watched her move here and move there._

_And she made her way onward, _

_with one star awake._

_As the swan in the evening moves over the lake._

_Last night she came to me,_

_she came softly. So_

_softly she came that_

_her feet made no din._

_And she laid her hand on me, and_

_this she did say,_

_"It will not be long love, till our wedding day."_

When she finished, Roselle flushed bright red and sat down, hiding her face in her hands and looking shyly at me.

I do not know what I expected, but I was pleased. "You sang well, Rosalee. No need to hide your face." She was, of course, not nearly as good a singer as Christine, and needed some tutelage, but she had wonderful potential. I had read on the..._Internet_...that this time still had a reasonably good opera community. And in America was a stage group called _Broadway_. If I trained her well, perhaps she could...yes. "Are you familiar with the song _Lo, How a Rose?_" I asked casually.

"Yes..." Roselle replied, suspiciously.

"Will you sing it for me?"

"I...I guess..." She took a trembling breath. Poor girl. She really was terrified.

"_Lo, how a rose is blooming,_

_From tender stem hath sprung._

_From Jesse's linage coming,_

_as men of old have sung..."_

Roselle's voice suddenly became weak, and she swayed. Abbey and I both stood in alarm and supported her.

"I'm sorry Erik...I don't think I can sing anymore..." She said faintly.

"Do not fret. You mustn't lock your knees, mademoiselle. It cuts off the blood."

"I know, but..."

Abbey and I lead her to the couch and she sat down. "Breathe, Roselle. Deep breaths," Abbey said slowly and clearly. Roselle sighed and her head rested gently on my shoulder. I found a smile on my face, but, uncomfortable with her so close, leaned away. "You do have a lovely voice, my dear. With some guidance you would sing as one from Heaven."

Roselle laughed breathily. "It doesn't really matter. My voice isn't going to take me anywhere."

"That is untrue- I read about this stage group called _Broadway--_"

"Erik, _no way. _I almost fainted in front of two people...what would happen in front of 2000? Besides, I like my job."

I opened my mouth to argue, but Abbey cut in. "Hey, let's watch a movie."

Abbey and Roselle began to search thru a...what is it...DVD case, agreeing and denying movies.

Then they froze. "Ohmigod don't let him see that one," Abbey whispered. "I can't believe you brought it!"

"Well I didn't expect the real guy to be living in our house!" Roselle hissed, and tried to shove the DVD in a hidden place, but I swooped down and took it. "How bad can it..." I began teasingly, but as soon as I saw the front, I dropped it like a poisonous snake.

The top of the DVD read _The Phantom of the Opera. _

"You haven't told me of this." I observed. I wasn't angry...rather frazzled.

"Um...no...let's not watch it..." the girls whispered, reaching for it.

"I would like to view this piece about my life," I said in a dangerous voice.

"The thing is, though, it's not very much like your life. It's way different, actually, and-"

"Please, mademoiselles. I have the right."

Roselle and Abbey glanced fearfully at me, then at each other. "Okay...well...it's your loss."

They slid it in and sat next to me on the couch. The air was thick with tension.

I watched in a daze, reliving those horrible times in my life. True, it wasn't much like what really happened, but enough to remember...

By the time the Christine kissed the puesdo-Erik I didn't know how much more I could take...I could feel bloody murder within my veins, just thinking about that _imbecile, _that _simpleton_ Raoul De Changy. I glanced over to the girls for the first time, needing to look at something else. To my surprise, Roselle had tears on her face. I raised an eyebrow as she turned to look at me. The girl blushed a deep red. "Sorry," she said, hastily brushing the crystals away. I always cry at that part and I haven't watched for a while..."

Roselle stared into my eyes, her sky orbs filled with woe. "I'm so sad for you. What happened...well, I sort of understand."

"Understand?" I said in a low, bitter voice. "How could you even _begin _to understand the pain I was- and am- in? Nay, you do _not _understand, mademoiselle!"

Abbey watched us and Roselle looked away, at her lap. "Let's just say I was in love with someone who...well...ended up not being so great."

"What do you mean?" I stood up, facing her. "Christine was wonderful. It was _De Changy. _ He convinced her I meant harm. It was NOT Christine!"

"Are you so sure? I'm sorry, Erik, but I think you've been blinded."

"I? Never! Stop these blasphemies, NOW!" I shouted, glaring fire at her.

Ah...the sudden emotion in her eyes. "It' so easy, Erik, to believe some one loves you and cares about you and find out they don't give shit! It's so easy to fall for someone you think will treat you like a person and not some toy!"

Rage poured into me, and I gulped it greedily. "You know NOTHING of what was between Christine and I! Do not say another word!"

Abbey stood up. "Hey, people, let's-"

"Quiet!" I snapped at her, and spun around before I might hurt someone. I slammed my door behind me and threw myself on my bed.

_Christine had loved me. Of course she had. But Raoul had convinced her that she didn't._

_She'd been scared, that's all. That's why she went with Raoul. And of course he'd make her stay home, and not come to back to me. I'd do the same._

But something there sounded wrong. Incorrect. False. Covered-up.

No it didn't.. I was just upset. There was nothing untrue about Christine loving me.

Was there?

I breathed shakily and felt a few tears trail down my face. Memories, every memory I had of my love came pouring into my mind. I could not stop them.

Oh my blonde princess, my Scandinavian queen, my goddess, my everything, my all!

Why, oh why had the Lord created such a hideous monster like me? Why couldn't I have died as an infant and saved the world from my ugliness?

Tears poured ever faster.

It was going to be a long night.


	8. Author's Apology

**I would like to apologize to my dear readers that I am halting production on this story. I've lost my jazz for it...the whole 'travelling into the future' was a bit more complicated than having her travel back in time. I'm sure I'll finish it /coughsomedaycough/. Right now I'm really busy, but also I'm starting a new story-- a Harry Potter ff, see how this goes. **

**Although I recieved critizim that my Leroux wasn't Leroux-y enough, that's not why I'm stopping on this one. I could care less what other people thought about my Erik, as they're either thinking too much along the lines of Susan Kay or haven't read the Leroux book 10+ times like I have. And it's really hard to write a convincing Lerik, as one has to really suck the character from the book, because you don't get much of poor, unhappy Erik first hand. **

**For those of you that liked (loved, maybe?) _Stranger Than You Dreamt It, _I'm really sorry. Truly. I want to finish it, I do!**

**/hands out brownies and skittles/ Thanks for reading. :-(**

**Keep checking for my lastest story, _The Spy! _I'm not sure when I'll put it up, but it should be soon!**

**CandleintheDarkness**


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